


To Carry You Home

by jeeno2



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Gift Giving, Kissing, One Shot, Post-Reichenbach, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-30
Updated: 2014-09-30
Packaged: 2018-02-19 09:37:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2383550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeeno2/pseuds/jeeno2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Sherlock prepares to leave London after his fall, Molly gives him a small gift to remember her by.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Carry You Home

Sherlock’s mobile goes off at precisely 4:30 a.m., rousing him from the fitful sleep he’d finally managed to drift into less than two hours previously.  After shutting the device off, he yawns and stretches his long arms over his head, knuckles accidentally bumping up against Molly’s oak headboard in the process.

When he and Mycroft made plans for his escape from London they agreed his leaving Molly’s flat under cover of complete darkness was the best course of action.  The world at large still believes him dead, and people need to  _keep_  believing that for as long as possible for there to be any chance at all of their plan succeeding. 

Accidentally alerting the public to the fact that Sherlock is alive by, say, his popping up on the Tube at midday would ruin everything.

Carefully — so as not to wake Molly, sleeping soundly in the guest room down the hall — Sherlock eases open the door to her bedroom and closes it behind him.  He crosses her flat as noiselessly as possible to the closet where his case (he’s only bringing the one; there won’t be room for more in Budapest) is stored.  

But to Sherlock’s surprise Molly is not sleeping in the guest room.  No; he finds her delicately perched on one of the small chairs in her kitchen, holding a cup of tea in both hands.  No steam rises from the cup which, when considered along with the fact that Molly is fully dressed and wearing an expectant look on her face can only mean she’s already been awake for some time.  Waiting for him.

"Molly," Sherlock begins, his voice embarrassingly shaky, his heart thumping uncomfortably in his chest. And then he trails off, not knowing what else to say.  If he were a more ordinary man he would probably take this opportunity to thank Molly for everything she’s done for him these past few days.  Past few years, really.  

But Sherlock Holmes is not an ordinary man, and he cannot manage to unstick the overwhelming gratitude he feels towards this incredible woman from the roof of his mouth.

Fortunately, Molly cuts through the awkward silence with words of her own.  Saving him once again.  ”I have something for you,” she tells him, her voice thick with sleep and her face, for once, completely unreadable.  

She gestures to a small box on the kitchen table.  Glancing up at him briefly she removes its lid.  

Sherlock cranes his neck a little and sees that a small, silver compass rests inside.  ”A compass,” he says, confused.  

"A compass," Molly agrees, nodding.

"I don’t… I don’t understand, Molly."  It’s a beautiful object -- covered with ornate engravings and fancy little dials that tell Sherlock its maker expended great effort in creating it. It also appears on first glance to be fully functional. But Mycroft has assured him he will have access to the latest and best forms of global positioning technology while he’s on this mission.  Carrying a compass around while abroad will provide him with no extra useful information.

Quite simply, this compass — as pretty as it is — is not something he needs.

Nonetheless, Molly Hooper takes the compass out of its box.  She pushes back from her chair and walks around the table to where Sherlock stands, still confused.  She takes one of his hands in hers and places the compass inside it.  She very gently closes his long fingers around the small metal object and takes his closed hand in both of hers.

Her pulse speed up a little at the close contact.  To his surprise, his does too.

"So you can find your way back to London," she says by way of explanation, not meeting his gaze.  Still holding his hand in hers.  (Sherlock wonders, fleetingly, what Molly Hooper would do if he brought their clasped hands up to his lips.  Would she let him?  Would he still be able to leave her if she did?)  

"So I can… find my way back to London?  Molly, I --" 

"Actually…. no, Sherlock," Molly cuts in. She shakes her head and takes a deep breath.  "So you can... find your way back to me."

Sherlock is no better at saying  _goodbye_  to the people he loves than he is at saying  _thank you._ But Molly saves him from that as well.  She leans up on her tiptoes to kiss him, then, all tentative movements and shy smiles.  As she wraps her slender arms around him and pulls him close, Sherlock places her small compass in his breast pocket and kisses her back, silently promising her that he’ll put her gift to good use. 

**Author's Note:**

> Written in response to an Anonymous drabble prompt on tumblr: "Sherlolly, gift-giving." 
> 
> I seem to have fallen into a bit of a Sherlolly rabbit hole. So this little one-shot will likely be the first of a short series. ;)


End file.
